Love is Like Wildfire, It Never Stops

3 million dollars – that’s the price Jim Marshall offered me to take the place of my sister, who passed away a long time ago, and stay by his side for a year.

“Evelyn, you killed Emma. You should spend your life drowning in guilt, never to be loved,” he said, tossing a thick stack of money at me. His cold eyes narrowed as he looked down on me, his expression filled with contempt.

In the bar, he used a wooden cane to lift my chin, disregarding the last shreds of my dignity, treating me like some pet he was buying at a market.

Everyone around watched with amusement, eager to see my reaction.